


Thresholds

by Miah_Arthur



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Exposure, Fluff, Forced Nudity, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Napping, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Public Humiliation, Scold's Bridle, Sexual Content, Stocks, Torture, Whump, Wiedźmin | The Witcher-Typical Bathing, foot whipping, gerlion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miah_Arthur/pseuds/Miah_Arthur
Summary: Life brings sorrow and joy: Geralt carries Dandelion in defeat and heartache and in triumph and love. From torture to tickles, Geralt takes care of his bard.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, Maimat. 
> 
> Art by [ CaptainMinette](https://captainminette.tumblr.com/)

#  **Thresholds**

###  **Chapter One**

[ ](https://captainminette.tumblr.com/post/643153985724907520/my-art-for-the-geraskier-midwinter-reverse-mini)

Geralt bit back a frustrated growl as Roach dropped from a canter to a trot. He longed to push her, drive her back to a cantor, but he let her slow and catch her breath. The late morning sun beat down on him relentlessly after three days of clouds and the threat of rain.  
 _Blond hair. Pretty. Played the lute. Wore fancy clothes. A big purple hat with a feather in it._

If there were two bards fitting that description, Geralt would eat the man's ridiculous hat. Four nights, the traveling cobbler said, since he'd seen the poet arrested over a dispute with the local magistrate. Three days his friend could have been suffering torment. Most public sentences were carried out at noon. They had miles left to cover before then. He clicked at Roach, encouraging her to speed up. 

He was too late.  
The pained screams of the unfortunate soul at the mercy of those within the town reached Geralt’s ears as he approached. Thinking of the myriad creative ways 'civilized' people had at their disposal to scar, maim, torment to death froze his guts. Four days. So much could have happened. He slowed Roach to a walk. He couldn’t fight an entire town, couldn’t stop the torture, but he could verify this was Dandelion and make a plan to rescue him.  
The screaming stopped by the time Geralt reached the village wall. The gates stood open; the guards had abandoned their posts. Geralt tied Roach to the first hitching post he saw and left her drinking from the trough. He followed the sounds of jeering to the central square and slipped into the crowd. 

His heart sank. On the central stage, two men flanked Dandelion, forcing him to pace the breadth of the platform. His steps were hesitant and the men bore much of his weight. He wore nothing but braies, yet another insult to Jaskier's psyche to add to the bastinado—caning the soles of his feet—hurt his body. Of all the ways they could have tortured him, Geralt was glad it was one that wasn't intended to permanently injure. As much pain as Dandelion was in now, he would heal from this. It may take a few weeks, but he'd be fine. 

A large man heavily muscled and paunched stood at the forefront of the platform with his chest puffed out. He wore a simple brown frock that covered him from shoulder to feet, but underneath Geralt caught glimpses of bright, rich clothing. The magistrate. He gestured expansively toward Dandelion, a thin whipping cane dangling from one hand. "He came into town a puffed-up peacock. Not so full of himself now, is he! Aren't you going to say anything, Poet? Won't you entertain us with your fine words?"

Dandelion looked away and avoided the magistrate’s glare. The magistrate motioned to the men keeping him upright, and they shoved Dandelion onto his stomach. They trapped each wrist in a slip knot and yanked the restraints taut, forcing his arms outstretched above his head. _Fuck_. They weren't done? Geralt knew they often split large numbers of strikes up, forcing the victim to walk in-between to maximize pain, but he'd hoped...

Dandelion didn't fight them, didn't yell threats and insults, didn't beg it to stop. Fear coiled in Geralt's gut. Dandelion _always_ fought and argued. What else had they done to him? Two men tied Dandelion's ankles to the rod and forced his feet up, exposed to the magistrate's weapon.

Geralt's hand twitched toward the sword on his back, and he clenched his fists, forcing them to remain at his sides. If he drew steel in this crowd, too many innocent lives would get caught in the fight. The magistrate took his time tugging on the frock to protect his fine clothing and grinned as he swung his arm back for the first swing. Time slowed. Geralt’s breath froze in his chest as he watched the arc of the cane, and the impact reverberated in his mind. Dandelion’s cry broke the spell, snapping time to its steady pace.

Each blow was delivered with deliberate precision. The magistrate paused between each strike to draw out the maximum pain. Dandelion screamed and thrashed until another man knelt on his lower back to hold him in place. The punishment continued. Geralt pushed his way through the crowd, staggering forward, the need to do _something_ overriding his sensibility. 

The beating stopped before he neared the stage. The men released Dandelion and the bard curled in on himself sobbing. Even that brief reprieve didn’t last long. The guards grabbed Dandelion’s arms and forced him to his knees. 

"Retract your offensive words and beg forgiveness!"

Dandelion trembled, but he shook his head. 

"Replace the bridle and return this cur to the stocks until nightfall."

A scold's bridle? They wouldn't! One of the men retrieved the device and Geralt surged forward. It was the most vicious version he'd ever seen, with a spiked metal mouthpiece. The overall shape had the elongated nose and ears of an ass to further humiliate the wearer.

Dandelion struggled as the guard approached him with the scold's bridle. The metal headgear fitted over his head like a cage. They forced his mouth open, shoved the spiked metal slat between his teeth, and pushed it firmly in place as a leather strap was cinched at the back. A padlock secured the back, locking it in place. Dandelion fell forward when they released him, barely catching himself on his elbows to keep the mask from hitting the stage. 

The stiff leather ass ears on the sides of the bridle bobbed with his movements, and the crowd crowed with laughter, shouting, and jeering. Geralt smelled the aged medlar fruit—the scent burning his nose like rancid wine—and feces they planned to pelt Dandelion with the moment the guards gave them leave. They dragged him up by his elbows and forced him to sit on the stocks bench. They stretched his legs out and trapped them in the stocks. The crowd flowed past Geralt, jockeying for position to be the first to take aim. Dandelion covered his head as the disgusting projectiles began pelting him.

Geralt couldn't stop them. 

He extricated himself from the throng of people and followed the path the magistrate took back to his office. The large, broad-shouldered man had removed the plain frock he wore to torture Dandelion, revealing rich material with expensive embroidery. He moved with the grace of training and strength. Surprising for a wealthy man in an administrative position—likely a warrior in his youth, running to fat in this cushy job. With the guards busy with Dandelion, the man was alone. 

_Good._

"What crime has the bard committed?" 

"He sang frivolous and obscene songs, which warranted his removal from this fine town. Then dared to call into question my parentage, fitness for office, and even the validity of the gods' wills. He is under exhortation to retract his statements and issue a formal apology, at which time I will banish him from this province."

"And if he doesn't say the things you demand?"

"No one withstands the stocks and bridle for long."

"What would it take to remove the bother for you?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "How do you mean remove? Have you witchers moved on to hired killings?"

"Is that what you want?"

He sniffed and waved a hand dismissively. "If the sentence were death, it would have been carried out."

Geralt suppressed the urge to growl at the man. Outside, he heard the crowd roar in glee as the guards turned them loose to torment Dandelion. "I am offering to take him out of your Provence, never to return."

"It seems that you want this bard quite badly. What are you willing to offer?"

"What is your price?"

The man's gaze raked over him, taking in the worn armor and patched clothes. He had finer clothing. The way the man assessed him made him glad he hadn't worn it. "Five hundred crowns fine, and you may not have him until after nightfall."

"Three hundred, and I take him now."

"Hmph! Out of the question! He has not publicly apologized, and I will _not_ release him in front of the crowds. Four-fifty. After dark."

“Four hundred. The guards disperse the crowd, and they loosen the bridle.”  
The man stroked his chin. "For four hundred, the bridle stays in place, the crowd will be controlled, and you'll stay away from him."

Geralt pushed his rage down. Dandelion's life depended on this. "Four-fifty, then."

The magistrate smiled broadly. "I thought you looked like a reasonable man." He went to the window and bellowed, "Alwin! Remind these good people they have tasks to attend." 

He sat behind his imposing desk and steepled his fingers. "My coin?"

Geralt had completed two large contracts before meeting that tradesman, so he had the coin. Barely. He counted out the coins. Even with the small size of the crown, his pack weighed noticeably less four hundred and fifty crowns lighter.

He turned to Geralt. "You have a horse?"

"Yes. Outside town."

"Your bard's belongings are in the cupboard next door; remove them. His horse is in the stable. The stable hand will have it saddled and ready to ride. Return after dark."

"If he is further harmed, you will regret it."

"If you believed you could win that fight, you wouldn't have paid for the bard's freedom."

"I don't have to fight the entire town to kill you."

The magistrate paused, then burst out into laughter. "Then we understand one another. Good. Return after dark. You’ll see him then.."

Geralt gathered up Dandelion's possessions and ran his finger along one of the many tears in his once fine shirt. Crusted, brown, droplets of blood patterned the fabric. The feather, so much a part of Dandelion's cap that Geralt couldn't imagine the troubadour without it, had been snapped in two, the piece dangled where it had once stood tall. At least Filavandrel's lute and the case remained intact.

As Geralt walked by the magistrate's office, the man said, "All he had to do was apologize."

"Torture doesn't change men's hearts." Geralt walked past him. The long wait until dark passed miserably slow. He moved Roach around the corner of the wall, out of sight of the gate. He was near enough to the platform where Dandelion sat in the stocks to hear if the abuse began anew. The day was hot, and he grew thirsty. How much worse for Dandelion with no shade or clothing and that _thing_ in his mouth? Even with it not pressed so cruelly tight, the sharp bit would remain on his tongue. 

At last, the sun dipped to the horizon, and Geralt saddled Roach. He led her through the gates to the stables and tied her reins to the post. Dandelion's horse was nowhere to be seen. He opened the door to the stables and found the short gelding. So much for Dandelion’s horse being saddled and ready, but at least they’d laid the tack out. Pegasus was frisky—rare for the normally sedate horse—and eager for exercise. 

Geralt led the horses to the magistrate’s building. The holding cells were in the basement of the magistrate’s building. Geralt pounded on the door near the platform.  
One of the men who'd held Dandelion down opened the door and motioned for him to follow. Dandelion lay in a heap ten feet inside the building. Geralt clenched his fists to stop himself from bashing the guard's skull against the wall. 

"Get the stubborn bastard out of here," the man sneered. 

Geralt crouched beside Dandelion. Closer, the injuries were more apparent. His skin was red, and numerous small blisters dotted his shoulders and upper chest. Heat radiated off him. His eyes were sunken, and his pulse raced. Blood trickled from his mouth. Trails of dried blood marred his throat and chest, and he was filthy and stinking of the things thrown at him. 

"Dandelion?"

He blinked his eyes open, but they didn't focus. 

Dandelion's lips were chapped and grated from the scold's bridle. Geralt slid his arm under Dandelion's shoulders and lifted his head to drip some water into Dandelion's mouth. He swallowed and jerked his hand toward the water skin. Geralt allowed him two long sips. "No more until that sits in your stomach."

"A witcher nursemaid, how sweet. Get out of here," the guard mocked. 

They were alone with the guard. Geralt threw axii at him. " _Leave._ "

The guard stumbled out of the door, deeper into the cellar. 

He hadn't expected Dandelion to be so unresponsive. Geralt scooped his other hand under Dandelion's knees and lifted him. Geralt pushed the outside door open and carried Dandelion to the horses. Roach flicked her ears in a bored way while the gelding stamped his feet. There was no way Dandelion was in any condition to ride the nervous gelding. Geralt draped Dandelion over the saddle, and he automatically grasped the pommel long enough for Geralt to mount behind him. It wasn't ideal, but he'd seen a perfect spot near a stream to spend the night not too far away. He lashed the gelding's reins to the pommel, to trail along behind. 

They passed through the open gates unchallenged, and Geralt kept his pace slow to save Roach's back and avoid drawing attention. He gave Dandelion more sips of water whenever he could juggle it, but Dandelion remained confused and overheated. Before they reached the stream, he went limp, throwing Geralt's balance off enough that Roach snapped her teeth at him. He cast an axii, and she plodded forward placidly. A few minutes later, he saw the hedge opening that led to the stream and angled the horses that way. 

He slid off Roach, bringing Dandelion with him. The water here was shallow, running swiftly over a stony bottom—not drowner habitat. Dandelion's temperature worried him. He needed to cool his friend down rapidly. Geralt knelt at the water's edge and sat Dandelion into it with his upper body on the bank. Geralt stripped and moved Dandelion deeper into the water. 

After several minutes, Dandelion's teeth began to chatter, and he shivered. "Lemme go."

"Dandelion. It's Geralt. I've got you."

"I fall asleep in the bath?"

"Not exactly."

He shifted, pushing ineffectively against Geralt's chest. "Need to get ready."

"It'll wait."

Dandelion settled. "That's good."

The burns exuded warmth, but the rest of his skin had cooled, so Geralt took him out of the water. The moss was thick under the nearby trees, so he didn't bother with the bedrolls. He gave Dandelion the rest of the water in his waterskin and hastily lit a fire. He didn't bother redressing entirely, only putting on his spare braies. The horses were already grumpy, but he got them taken care of for the night, and they leaned on each other nickering, catching up on gossip, Geralt thought. 

He fetched more water and returned to find Dandelion sitting up, huddled in on himself. His hair hung in wet clumps around his face, and he didn't meet Geralt's gaze but accepted the waterskin and drained it with noisy gulps. 

"I knew you'd save me." Dandelion's voice was rough, and he grimaced.

"You did?" 

"Well, no, but I was counting on it." 

"How did you get yourself into that mess?"

"Absolute boors. No appreciation for the arts." He sniffled. "I don't suppose my clothes survived the rescue?"

"They did." Geralt fetched the clothes. 

Dandelion took them. Color crept up his cheeks, and his hands shook. "I fear that I do not have the strength to manage. Geralt? Would you allow me to impose on you once more?"

"Only once, eh?"

"Truly, who is counting?"

Geralt gripped his hand. "Not me."

Geralt helped Dandelion shimmy out of the wet, grungy braies and into clean ones. He trembled with the action. His heart rate, already rapid, shot up, and the slight effort stole his breath. 

"You can't imagine how much better that feels," he panted. "A proper bath will be much appreciated once we reach civilization."

"Did they beat you every day?"

Dandelion huddled in on himself. "It feels as though the time was interminable. I remember every moment of them striking me, and yet the days blur together." More blood dribbled from his mouth as he spoke. 

Geralt wet a cloth and handed it to him. "I need to have a look in your mouth."

"It's fine. Nothing but a bit of sunburn and some scratches. Nothing to worry about."

"Then nothing to worry about showing me."

With a much put-upon sigh, Dandelion opened his mouth. The bit of the bridle had been spiked, top and bottom. Both the roof of his mouth and his tongue had suffered scratches and punctures. Some were healing. Others bled. 

"Move your tongue."

"Is this really necessary?" Some of the wounds gaped when he spoke, setting off fresh bleeding. 

"Yes." He looked for a moment longer, and the blood slowed. "It should heal. You'll need to rinse with salt water now and after meals."

"Surely not."

Geralt didn't answer, instead mixing salt into a cup of the water warming for tea. He added fennel and mint to the water and waited while the salted water cooled and the tea heated. Dandelion swayed in place behind him. The night was turning chilly, but the burn generated fever. Better to keep him cool. Geralt handed the salted water to Dandelion. 

"Geralt?" He frowned at the cup. "We need to get out of here."

"We did. Swish this and spit."

Dandelion took the cup and took a gulp. He spluttered and spit it out. "It's salty!"

"The salt will help your mouth heal. Swish and spit."

His eyes widened. "Of course. That's right." He took the water and, with much grimacing, rinsed his mouth. His face paled, and he swallowed convulsively. 

"Rinse with the fresh water and then drink this."

Dandelion paled further and shook his head. 

"It'll help." 

Geralt wafted the scent toward him, and he accepted the drink, sipping it slowly. Geralt checked Dandelion's bags for medicine. They hadn't been traveling together, so he had nothing safe. Dandelion had a small pouch of medications and a jar of lavender and chamomile scented moisturizer. It would do to help soothe the unblistered areas of his burns. 

The tea was gone, and Dandelion looked less like vomiting was imminent when Geralt returned. He held the empty cup loosely and stared at the fire. 

"Dandelion?"

"Did my clothes get rescued as well?"

The clothes sat next to him. 

Geralt crouched beside him. The fever heat reached him without touching. He debated whether to get Dandelion back in the river or use wet compresses. Compresses, he decided—less handling. He dipped his spare shirt in the water and wrung it out. Dandelion shivered when he draped it over his back. 

"I won't." Dandelion shook his head.

"I won't ask you to." Geralt mixed a dose of fever reducer.

"Can't make me."

Geralt huffed. "Wouldn't dream of it. Take this." 

After he swallowed the medicine, Geralt guided Dandelion into laying down. Every few minutes, Geralt took the shirt off and waved it to cool it down and be sure it remained moist. Dandelion fell into a restless doze, but the cold and medicine worked to reduce the fever. Geralt let him rest while he cooked a thin porridge, fortified with powdered dry meat and dried fruit cooked soft. 

Before waking him, Geralt examined his feet. There were deep bruises and some oozing welts, but he didn’t think they’d broken any bones. Once the soft tissue injuries had healed for a few days, he'd be more certain there were no slight fractures. He treated the welts and tugged Dandelion's hosen up over them, securing them to his belt. Any more clothes tonight would only cause more pain. 

"Dandelion. Wake up."

"I will never do it, Urven. You might as well release me."

"It's Geralt."

Dandelion lurched forward and threw his arms around Geralt. "I knew you'd save me."

Geralt wrapped his arms around Dandelion gingerly, trying to avoid the burns. "Always if I'm able."

"Why is my shirt so wet?" He sat up and tugged on the shirt. He hissed and stopped moving. 

"Sunburn. The wet is pulling the heat out."

"Oh. Yes. Good."

"Eat." Geralt handed him the pot with the warm porridge. "Go slow. Let your stomach get used to food."

"You are a fine chef, Geralt!" Dandelion said after the first bite. 

He wasn't. But hunger was a fantastic seasoning. Dandelion ate the entirety of it quicker than Geralt would prefer, but he kept it down. He shivered as Geralt removed the wet shirt. "Let me spread lotion on this before you sleep."

"Oh, that's heavenly. Thank you, my friend."

"Rest. I'll keep watch."

Geralt sat up, keeping watch until midnight, in case the magistrate thought to send his goons after them. Dandelion slept fitfully, and Geralt hated the magistrate all the more for the fact he couldn't snuggle up beside his friend, as they often did, because of the burn. Dandelion's temperature stayed down, so finally, Geralt lay down and let himself sleep. 

Drizzling rain woke him in the morning. The damp stood no chance against his igni, and the wood sizzled and popped but caught. Dandelion lay on his stomach. They should move on as soon as possible, but Dandelion needed food and drink before travel. Geralt made more tea and porridge. He made soft bread with more powdered meat and dried fruit added to the dough and cooked it wrapped in leaves buried in the ashes to eat later in the day. If the rain got worse, at least he'd have something. 

"Dandelion. Wake up." 

Geralt gripped Dandelion's hand. He startled awake and jerked away from Geralt, his heart racing. He groaned and hunched his shoulders. His gaze landed on Geralt, and he forced his posture straight. "I apologize, friend. A tad jumpy is all. Nothing to concern yourself with."

He smiled for Dandelion's sake. "Tea and porridge."

"It rained."

"It's only a drizzle for now."

"The crowd still came."

Geralt was unsure what Dandelion needed right now, so he settled for letting him know he was heard. "Hmm."

Dandelion sipped the tea with proper table manners but eyed the bowl of porridge as if pride alone kept him from shoveling it into his mouth. 

"I need to tend the horses," Geralt said. 

He stood and did not look back. 

Before he crossed the clearing to the horses, Dandelion was eating noisily. "Really, Geralt, this is wonderful." 

"Now I know you're delirious." Geralt took his time getting them tacked up, not glancing back or speaking until he heard Dandelion settle back down. Pegasus had settled into his usual placid attitude, stolidly accepting the saddle and tack while Roach looked on with reproach at his cooperative behavior. This Roach was a breath holder and sometimes a biter, but he soon had her ready for travel as well.

"Think you can ride today?"

Dandelion gulped and glanced around as if he expected guards lurking in the bushes. "Of course, dear Geralt. I imagine we didn't travel far when you saved me."

Geralt took a deep breath. Death was too good for the magistrate, but he wouldn't risk taking revenge until Dandelion was safe, no matter how it tore at him. "No, not far. If it weren't raining, I wouldn't ask you to move so soon."

He straightened and smiled. Tried to smile. The movement pulled on his damaged lips, sending a drop of blood down his chin.

Geralt passed him a cloth. 

He pressed it to his lip and said, "I seem to recall the use of some moisturizer that last night?"

"I know you lack the ability, but _try_ not to talk. I'll put more of the lotion on and help you with your clothes."

Dandelion's eyes widened. "I would appreciate that very much. You know, I do believe that being displayed in my small clothes was the greatest cruelty of the entire ordeal."

At another time, he'd make a jab about Dandelion's vanity, but the way he'd come back to asking after his clothes so many times while confused stopped him. "It was."

Dandelion moaned obscenely as Geralt spread the lotion over the burns. The blisters were worse this morning, and the area of reddened skin was larger. After he helped Dandelion into his chemise, Geralt hesitated over the doublet. "The pressure on the blisters will be worse in this."

"It'll block the rain better. Besides, you can't be intending for me to ride in an indecent state?" Blood spilled from his mouth, and Geralt worried that the wounds were more severe than he suspected.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Drink some more tea while I pack the saddlebags."

Dandelion dabbed at his lip with a grimace and accepted the cup of tea without a word, and Geralt's worry ratcheted up. Sun poisoning could be a severe ailment that required a longer recovery than a few days at an inn would afford him. Added to the other conditions, Dandelion might need a good healer. 

He'd kept an ear on Dandelion as he worked. Geralt listened to him work the fastenings on the doublet and slump onto his side with a hiss as his burned shoulder touched the ground. The clouds hung heavy in the sky, but no lightning or heavy winds carried the threat of a storm, just soggy misery of the sort that could go on for days. He stored the bread in pouches and let Dandelion rest a little longer. 

His eyes were still sunken, and the lost weight apparent in his cheeks. If he fell asleep this easily, he had no business riding, but they needed a safe, dry place to rest. There was an herbalist he trusted they might reach by midday.

He crouched beside Dandelion. "Ready to move?" he called softly.

Dandelion jerked away from him, "Just wait until word gets around of how you treat famous poets! Everyone is going to know what uncultured—" He broke off, blinking at Geralt. "Ah, Geralt. For a moment there—" He sat up, affecting nonchalance. "Lovely day for a ride."

"How are your feet? Can you walk?" 

"Of course, I can walk. Weak-armed louts, the lot of them." 

Geralt hauled him up to his feet, but Dandelion swayed in place, and his knees buckled. Geralt caught him and hefted him up in his arms. 

Dandelion blinked several times before speaking. "My hero."

"Are you sure you can ride?"

"A mere moment of dizziness, my dear witcher."

"Dandelion."

"I will be perfectly all right on Pegasus' back, Geralt."

Geralt responded by boosting Dandelion into the saddle and hovering a moment until he'd seated himself properly. Geralt didn't buy for a moment that Dandelion was fine, but he allowed him his bravado. He mounted Roach, and they rode toward the west. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, and the temperature was cool. Geralt watched Dandelion closely at first, but other than speaking little, he maintained the facade of being fine. 

By mid-morning, the rain had picked up, soaking them through. Dandelion drooped in the saddle. Pegasus, the gentle beast that he was, kept moving as if he didn't notice his rider's unbalanced seat. 

"Dandelion."

He straightened in the saddle and squared his shoulders. "Yes, Geralt?"

"Take a drink."

"Oh, yes. Excellent idea." He downed half the bottle and hung it back on his belt. "Away from Jurran is a superb direction, but where are we headed, Geralt?"

"Toward an herbalist, I know. We'll be there soon."

“Ah, well, I dare say that I would not scorn a day or two of rest.” He hunched lower and lower in the saddle as he spoke.

"Are you about to faint?"

"Faint? I would never! A bit tired, perhaps."

Dandelion fell silent, and Geralt kept closer. They'd reached the turn toward the herbalist. It wasn't far—over a small hill and around a bend. Dandelion swayed in his saddle, and Geralt stopped Roach. Pegasus, the loyal herd beast he was, stopped as well. Geralt darted around to Pegasus' side in time to catch Dandelion as he slid out of the saddle. His eyes were closed, and his face, around the burns, was pale. 

Geralt clicked his tongue at the horses and strode forward at a brisk pace. It would be easier to carry Dandelion across his shoulders. The faint made him an awkward dead weight of long limbs to manage in a cradle carry, but he would not shift. 

"Tired," Dandelion murmured. 

"I know. You can rest now. I've got you."

"Always save me." Blood trickled from his mouth again, running unimpeded down his chin. 

Geralt felt his eyes prick with hot moisture. He hadn't been on a crusade to save his friend. If not for the chance encounter with that merchant, he'd never have altered his course to head for Jurran at all. Dandelion would have died, hoping for Geralt to save him, and he would never have known what happened to him. 

The muscles in his arms and back ached with the effort, but the cottage was in sight. The door stood open, and Geralt marched through the garden. "Marike!"

A middle-aged, stout woman stepped to the door. "Aye." She took in Geralt and his burden and hurriedly stepped aside. "Master witcher! Bring him in, bring him in."

Geralt stepped through the door, water running in rivulets from them. Blood dripped from Dandelion's chin. 

"Let's get him out of these sopping clothes and into the bed," Marike said. 

Geralt nodded dumbly and held Dandelion steady as she removed his boots and loosened his remaining clothes. 

"The cot by the fire and tell me what you know."

"He ran afoul of the magistrate in Jurran. They had him in the stocks, whipped his feet, put him in the branks, restricted his food and water."

"And left him in the sun to broil alive."

The blisters had grown even larger over the course of the day, some merging. Dandelion put up a feeble struggle as they stripped him, and Geralt's guilt grew. Dandelion had said being denied clothing had been the worst part of his ordeal, and they were taking them while he was too weak to reason with. 

"See to your horses. They can shelter in my shed. Dry clothes for you too, Geralt."

When Geralt returned, his spare clothes only slightly dampened by his job from the shed to the cottage, Marike had smeared a salve over Dandelion's back and was mixing herbs. He hadn't had the supplies needed to care for a human in such a dire condition. 

"Geralt," Dandelion groaned.

"He needs rest and feeding. This will soothe the pain and lend him strength. Help him sit up." 

Geralt knelt beside Dandelion and helped him sit. He leaned into Geralt's side, his head drooped onto Geralt's shoulder. 

"Drink this, and then I'll make you something soft to eat."

He grimaced at the taste but drank the concoction down. After a few minutes, his eyes opened wider, and he sat straighter. "My dear herbalist, that is a marvelous brew."

She waved a spoon at him from near the fire. "Proprietary blend, and not to be used too frequently. You'll sleep a good long while when the wakefulness stage wears off."

Dandelion turned to stare at Geralt. "What's wrong, friend?"

"Nothing."

"I can see it plainly in your eyes. Fear not, I'm not about to expire."

A smile tugged at Geralt's lips. "We should travel together for a while, perhaps to a more welcoming climate. Cidaris, maybe?"

Dandelion pressed his hand to Geralt's chest, over his heart. "I'd like that a great deal, my friend."


	2. Chapter Two

###  **Chapter Two**

Geralt watched Dandelion sport in the water with open admiration. The long, lean lines of muscle and broad shoulders that his fancy clothes minimized were on full display as he swam from one bank of the creek to the other. He dipped underwater and came back up, water streaming from his hair. Geralt captured him and dragged him closer. 

Dandelion laughed. "This was an excellent idea, Geralt. A swim and picnic are the perfect way to spend an afternoon after a long journey."

"A bath was definitely in order."

"Are you insinuating that I stank?" He pulled back, mock outrage in his stance. 

"Hmm. Telling you, you still stink. Soap."

Dandelion leaned into Geralt's space, trailing a finger up Geralt's chest. "If my hygiene habits are so offensive to your nose, perhaps you should offer your aid."

"Shall I be _thorough_?"

"I will accept nothing less."

Geralt led him to shallower water, near an overhanging branch they could hang supplies on. He took his time working lather into Dandelion's hair. It had grown longer, hanging around his shoulders. With it long, Dandelion's fine features lent him an elfin appearance. Dandelion sighed and draped his arms over the branch, relaxed and smiling. Geralt scooped a bowl of water and poured it over Dandelion's hair, rinsing it. 

Dandelion wiped the hair away from his face. "Like the old days in reverse, eh?"

"Old days? I seem to recall far more dumping buckets of freezing water over my head."

He chuckled. "I believe you deserved it for being so grumpy."

Geralt snorted. "I'll give you that." He stroked down Dandelion's back, working at the tight muscles around his shoulder blades. 

"I take it back. You are and always have been the most wonderful man on the continent."

Geralt worked his way down Dandelion's back to his ass. Even after all these years, his muscles were as taut as a man in his twenties. Dandelion shivered and pushed back against Geralt's hands. 

"Ah-ah-ah," Geralt tutted. He glided his hands down between Dandelion's cheeks, brushing over his hole. 

"How _thorough_ are you going to be, Geralt?"

He leaned in, draping over Dandelion's back, and nuzzled at the back of his neck, up to his ear. His erection pressed firmly against Dandelion's ass. " _Very_ ," he murmured, rocking his hips. 

Dandelion pivoted and kissed him. "I've missed you, my friend."

"And I, you." 

They kissed with none of the desperation of years past—long and slow and sure of themselves. The safety of Touissant, with its clean, sun-warmed waters, the picnic they'd enjoyed in the shade of a large tree, the simple joy of holding his lover in his arms once again; Geralt lost himself in the moment. 

Dandelion broke the kiss first. He pressed their foreheads together, one hand smoothing Geralt's hair away from his face. "I shall write ballads of this moment," he said. 

Geralt smiled. "And bawdy jigs of the next several minutes?"

He laughed, "Indeed! I believe you've missed entire regions in your quest to divest me of the stench of travel." 

"Hmm." Geralt poured more water over the two of them before he lathered the cloth with soap. He trailed the cloth along Dandelion's arms and over his chest. He toyed with the thick, curly hair covering Dandelion’s chest and followed the trail of hair lower, skipping past Dandelion’s erection to rub the soapy cloth over one thigh and then the other.

"You've become quite the tease in your old age, Geralt." 

"And you've not gained patience."

Dandelion ground against him. "Patience is overrated."

Geralt put more soap on the cloth and tugged on Dandelion. "My knee is too stiff to kneel for so long."

They stood, Geralt less holding Dandelion close than using him as a brace until he was confident his knee would hold. 

"You should have said. Do we need to lie down?"

"It's good now." Geralt hooked his chin over Dandelion's shoulder. "Now, you complained I missed something, didn't you?" He slid his hand lower, spreading the soap, washing for now rather than playing. 

Dandelion huffed at him. "You were serious about the bath, then?"

Geralt nipped his ear to hear him yelp. "Very." He forestalled Dandelion's protest by switching from efficient cleaning to soft caresses, spreading a thick layer of soap suds over Dandelion's cock and balls, and stretching to reach further back behind his balls. 

"Mmm, that's more like it." Dandelion braced against a higher branch and pressed into the touches. 

Geralt switched hands, cupping Dandelion's balls with one hand, rolling and stretching them gently. With his other hand, he spread soap over his own dick. He pushed his cock between Dandelion's thighs, testing the glide. 

Dandelion squeezed his legs together, and Geralt groaned. He thrust lazily, in no hurry to reach the end. He relished the slide and warmth on his dick and the press of Dandelion's body against his chest. Geralt slid his hand up Dandelion's shaft, pressing his fingertips against that sensitive place under the head with each slow stroke. Dandelion gasped and twitched, and despite the slow pace, Geralt felt both of them building to their climax. 

He kissed the back of Dandelion's neck and sped up. His orgasm washed over him like an inrushing tide. He stroked Dandelion through his orgasm soon after, and the two of them stood panting and quivering until Dandelion broke the spell. 

"Come, let's rinse."

Geralt shook his head against the back of Dandelion's neck. "Don't want to move."

Dandelion shimmied out of his grasp and led Geralt into the deeper water. He ducked into the water up to his chin, scrubbing at himself, and came back up dripping and free of soap and spend. He splashed Geralt. "Rinse, so we can rest in the shade." He waded toward the edge. 

Geralt hurried to catch up then, rinsing and following Dandelion to the blanket under the tree. He eased his way to the ground and stretched out. He propped himself on his elbow to better gaze at Dandelion. The dappled light filtering through the leaves of the tree played over his body. Dandelion lay spread on his back, his arms under his head, watching the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze. 

"Come here." Dandelion said, extending one arm. 

Geralt accepted the invitation and snuggled into Dandelion's side. The ease of post-release combined with the perfect day and the steady beat of Dandelion's heart lulled him to sleep. 

The sun was much lower in the sky when they woke. A bit sticky where skin touched skin, but warm and comfortable. Geralt didn't want to move, but Dandelion's stomach gurgled. 

"Hmm, yes, I too am loath to end this magical afternoon, but my stomach does insist."

Geralt grumbled but sat up. 

"Think of the joys of testing the limits of your bed later."

"Finest craftsmanship in Toussaint."

"Then it'll stand up to our inspection."

They waded into the water and rinsed away the sweat. Geralt moved to claim the towel first, but Dandelion darted past him to snatch it. 

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow!" he shouted. He hopped the rest of the way to the blanket, collapsing dramatically. He pulled his foot up to look at the bottom. "The very ground has betrayed me, Geralt!"

Geralt smiled and knelt on the blanket. He pulled Dandelion's foot to his lap to examine it. A drop of blood welled from the arch. Geralt brushed it away with his thumb. 

Dandelion's toes curled, and his leg twitched. "That tickles!"

"Oh?" Geralt gripped his ankle more firmly and swiped across a second time. " _This_?"

"Yes, that." He tugged against Geralt's grip but fell back, laughing and squirming as Geralt kept going. "Mercy! Mercy!" he gasped out. 

Geralt released his foot, and Dandelion breathed a sigh of relief… until Geralt snatched his other ankle. He giggled as Geralt threatened to tickle it, but Geralt froze. Across the arch were two crisscrossed thin, white scars. 

"Wh-what are you doing, Geralt? I thought you were planning to torture—"

Geralt traced his finger over the scars, but Dandelion twitched without laughing, his expression concerned. "It left a scar."

"What did?"

Dandelion limp and bloody in his arms as he staggered to the herbalist's hut, confused and thin by the fire, naked and not fighting as they forced the branks over his head… "Don't you remember?"

His face scrunched. "Of course not." 

Geralt released him as he rolled up onto his knees. 

Dandelion cupped Geralt's cheek. He pressed a featherlight kiss to Geralt's lips. "There's only room for good things in my thoughts today." He kissed Geralt deeper, more insistent until Geralt responded. He finally pulled away from the kiss. "And I believe I was promised a meal and the testing of Toussaint craftsmanship."

Geralt nodded, and Dandelion moved away to collect his clothes. Geralt didn't miss how he grimaced, putting on his hose and boots. No matter that it was a tiny cut, the bruise would be irritating. Dandelion didn't hint at any discomfort as they packed up their picnic and ambled along the path to the manor house.

The scents of berries ripening in the hedgerows and hay laying in the fields to dry wafted on the air. Bees droned, and the evening birds sang. The sunlight hit their backs and stretched their shadows far out in front of them. 

Geralt caught Dandelion's hand and held it as they got closer to the greenhouse. At the door, he tugged Dandelion to a stop. 

"What is it?"

"A good memory for a good day." Geralt swept Dandelion up in his arms. 

Dandelion let out a startled yelp before he wrapped his arms around Geralt's neck. "You've saved me, my dear Geralt."

Geralt carried him through the archway into the greenhouse. Dandelion was heavier than the other time. His skin tanned and his clothes impeccably clean, he looked up at Geralt, a smile on his face. 

A few steps past the arch, he said, "An excellent memory, but perhaps put me down before your knee hampers our evening?"

Geralt snorted at him but set him back onto his feet. "How could I ever live with myself if I did that?"

Dandelion grasped Geralt's hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. "You'd make it up with many more days in the sun."


End file.
